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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24886300">Paint the Sky</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Rowe/pseuds/Kat_Rowe'>Kat_Rowe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Who Needs Heaven (when we have each other)? [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley's Eyes (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley used to make nebulae, Developing Relationship, M/M, Outer Space, Relationship Discussions, Romantic Gestures, Wingfic, the music of the spheres</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:47:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24886300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Rowe/pseuds/Kat_Rowe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the time before time, Crowley helped create the Skies. His last job was never completed, but it's still out there somewhere, waiting for a pair of skilled hands to work it into its intended shape.  </p><p>Aziraphale would dearly love to see his friend finish what he started, but Crowley has other (more romantic) ideas.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Who Needs Heaven (when we have each other)? [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Paint the Sky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I really can't thank Zorianne enough for her beta work: recently in general, and on this fic in particular. Turns out she knows a thing or two about outer space. Any remaining errors are entirely my own.</p><p>(Also, I feel like I owe you all an apology for the fact that this is even sappier than the last one in the series.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They were grooming in Crowley’s flat tonight and, after a great many drinks, the former angel was feeling chatty. Face-down on his bed, wings spread wide as Aziraphale picked his way through the dark feathers, he was speaking, for the first time in the angel’s memory, of the time before his Fall. </p><p>That alone would have been beautiful, a perfect token of their increased closeness over the last few weeks, but what really amazed the angel was Crowley’s lack of bitterness or remorse when discussing what he’d lost. Almost as if their newfound intimacy really<em> had </em>helped dull some of the pain, as he’d prayed it might. It was a wonderful thought, one that left Aziraphale feeling warm inside.</p><p>“Nebulas? Nebulae?” Crowley asked, voice a bit slurred from alcohol, but sounding genuinely content. “Whatever you call a bunch of ‘em. I did dozens.”</p><p>“Really?” Aziraphale asked, biting his lip. Absently smoothing his friend’s feathers, he took a moment to savor the warmth and softness of them before withdrawing his hands. He always enjoyed touching Crowley, and would have adored rubbing his shoulders a bit before bed, but the former angle looked far too relaxed to need a massage. Straightening and stretching, he said, “I never knew you worked on the Skies.” </p><p>“Yeah, well, it was kind of a long time ago,” Crowley pointed out, ruffling his wings and tucking them neatly against his back. Turning his head, he stared over his shoulder at Aziraphale. “Earth was just a blueprint back then, so no Eastern Gate yet. What were you up to?”</p><p>“Nothing as glamorous or exciting as what you did.” Blushing a little, he mumbled, “I was a file-clerk.”</p><p>Crowley blinked. “A <em> what</em>?”</p><p>The angel sighed, repeating more clearly, “A file-clerk. I reviewed and collated progress reports on the Creation. Dull compared to making the Skies, I know.”</p><p>“Someone had to keep things organized,” he pointed out. “Creation would have been a muddled mess without the back office making sure everything stayed on track. I mean, someone had to keep things running smoothly, and I can’t think of a better angel for the job.”</p><p>“Well, thank you, but I was always a bit envious of you lot, all the same,” Aziraphale said, blushing at the admission.</p><p>“Ever the malcontent, Aziraphale, even in the time before time,” Crowley chuckled, sitting up and rolling his shoulders. </p><p>His wings flared beautifully, stretching to their full span for a few moments, before he tucked them close again. Aziraphale had to resist the urge to press his face into their woodsmoke-scented softness and drink it all in until Crowley made him stop.<br/><br/>What had he done to deserve someone like Crowley? When had he allowed the feelings between them to become unabashedly mutual? How had Crowley come to love such a boring, stubborn creature as Aziraphale? And where had he found the patience to wait thousands of years for the angel to finally come around? Aziraphale had never been patient, or even consistently kind, but Crowley had endured it all without losing his affection. And, even though Crowley had long since lost his faith in the Almighty, he had somehow always retained faith in a ridiculous angel incapable of making up his mind about anything more important than a wine list.</p><p>“Hey, what’s wrong?” Crowley prompted, reaching out and tenderly grasping the crest of one snowy wing. It was such a simple touch, but so intimate that it immediately warmed something inside the angel. “What’s on your mind, Aziraphale?”</p><p>“I just wish I’d been part of it all: Creation,” the angel admitted, looking away. Even now, it was hard not to feel uneasy over his own Pride and Envy at having wanted more. And imagining Creating something with <em> Crowley</em>, at the start of everything, filled him with mixed emotions. Far too many of them, so he stuck to the concrete as much as he could. “There I was, organizing reports that no one would ever take the trouble to read. But people marvel whenever they look at the Sky you helped to craft. <em> Your </em>Sky, Crowley…”</p><p>They sat in silence for several long moments, then Crowley shifted position, his shoulder and wing lightly pressing against Aziraphale’s. “You know, angel, if you wanted…”</p><p>“What?” he asked, absently fidgeting with a downy black feather he’d just plucked to make way for new scapular growth. Such soft, perfect feathers. Such a beautiful way for them to be able to care for one another.</p><p>“I may happen to know where there’s an unfinished nebula, if you ever wanted to try your hand,” Crowley told him, voice playful, and challenging. For a creature who claimed to have given up the Temptation business, he still managed to coax Aziraphale into quite a few questionable activities. Nothing precisely sinful, but a great many unangelic things, certainly.</p><p>“I wasn’t aware there <em> were </em> any that hadn’t been finished. I must have missed a memo somewhere.”</p><p>“There’s just the one, far as I know,” Crowley told him. “Probably no memo; can’t imagine they’d have wanted people remembering its creator. I was halfway through it when something came up.” </p><p>“Oh,” the angel whispered, clearing his throat and trying not to squirm. “You don’t mean…”</p><p>“Never mind what I mean. My point is that there’s a massive, dense pile of stardust up there,” he told Aziraphale, pointing towards the ceiling. After a moment’s consideration, he pointed downwards and a bit to the left instead. “Big massive pile of stardust down there just <em> waiting </em> to be splashed across the heavens,” he concluded, hands gesturing eagerly and eyes actually glowing a little.</p><p>Smiling and resisting the urge to draw him into an embrace, and to give him quite a few kisses, Aziraphale whispered, “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you speak so passionately about anything before. You must have loved being able to do that, just… Create something out of nothing. Something real and enduring, something that’s <em> inspired </em>so many people.”</p><p>Crowley stared at him in silence, expression abruptly unreadable. </p><p>“I just… I’d like to see some of the nebulae you’ve built,” he added, biting his lip and hoping he hadn’t gone too far in his enthusiasm. </p><p>“Eh. I’m sure you’ve seen at least a few of them before.” </p><p>“Well, probably, but I didn’t know they were <em> yours </em> before,” he pointed out quietly. </p><p>Crowley stared for a long moment, his inscrutable expression slowly giving way to a warm smile. “Has anyone told you lately that you’re a sentimental tit,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the angel’s cheek.</p><p>“Just as long as I’m <em> your </em> sentimental tit,” Aziraphale chuckled, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s waist with a happy sigh, glad his friend’s peaceful mood was holding.</p><p>Snorting, he wrapped an arm around the angel’s shoulders, leaning into him even more. “We can look at pictures later, sure. But my point was that, if <em> you </em> ever want to try your hand--”</p><p>“No, you should complete it yourself,” Aziraphale protested, shaking his head. “Your very last nebula, my dear.” </p><p>“The one that got away?” Crowley asked, grimacing and shaking his head. “Angel, there’s no bringing back the glory days. It would be like… making ganache with carob instead of chocolate. Just not the same.”  </p><p>Aziraphale grimaced at the thought, shaking his head. “No, I suppose not. But it’s a shame, having a nebula just sitting out there unfinished.” Biting his lip, he tried to appeal to his friend’s mischievous side. “Can you imagine the looks on the faces of all those poor astronomers? Peeking into their telescopes only to see a nebula that’s completely rearranged itself overnight, as if by magic?” </p><p>A smile slowly lit the former angel’s face and he let out a soft laugh. “Oh, to be a fly on that wall at <em> that </em> observatory.”</p><p>“It would take quite a few years for anyone to notice, I know, but it would be worth the wait,” he goaded gently. And when had goading become Aziraphale’s job rather than Crowley’s?</p><p>Crowley shook his head, expression nostalgic but not remotely regretful. “My nebula-making days are over, angel.” </p><p>He made a soft noise of denial, moving to sit in front of Crowley and gently taking his hands. “They were over, for a time,” he agreed, squeezing those wonderful long fingers, fingers that made the Skies. “But, as you’re fond of pointing out, times have changed and the old rules don’t apply any longer.”</p><p>“You sound like a motivational speaker,” Crowley scoffed, but he didn’t try to free his hands, either.</p><p>“I can’t help it. The idea of you Creating something that so many people will see and admire, and not just people on this planet, is… It’s beautiful. Inspiring.” </p><p>Crowley snorted softly, shaking his head. “You’re being angelic again.”</p><p>“Yes, well, I<em> am </em> still an angel. For some reason,” Aziraphale reminded his friend, shaking his head and requesting, “Will you at least show me one or two of your finished pieces?”</p><p>“Sure, there’s a space atlas in my study. I’ll get it.” </p><p>“No,” Aziraphale protested, shaking his head. “Show me. Really show me.”</p><p>Crowley blinked, looking startled. “What? You mean… go out there? To space?”</p><p>“Why not?” he asked, shrugging.</p><p>Crowley frowned in answer, falling silent for a long moment. Finally, looking thoughtful, he asked, “When’s the last time you were off Earth?”</p><p>“You mean other than visits to Heaven or Hell?” he temporized. When Crowley gave him a Look, he admitted, “I was assigned straight from Heaven to Earth. I’ve never actually been anywhere else.”</p><p>“Most find it pretty unnerving,” Crowley warned. “Different gravity and temperature. Different pressure and atm-- well no pressure or atmosphere at all, actually. It’s pretty unnerving. Most Architects who washed out did because they couldn’t handle being in space for any length of time.”</p><p>“It’s not dangerous, though, is it?”</p><p>“No, of course not. We’re not <em> humans</em>.”</p><p>“Then show me?” Aziraphale requested, squeezing Crowley’s hands again. “It would be nice to see your work in person.”</p><p>“You’re being soppy again. It would be annoying if you weren’t so blessed adorable.” Chuckling and smiling, he asked. “You sure you want to go?”</p><p>“Positive, yes.”</p><p>“All right.” He climbed to his feet, waiting for Aziraphale to join him and offering his hands again. “You might want to close your eyes.”</p><p>Obediently squeezing his eyes shut, he asked, “I don’t suppose this is a preamble to a surprise kiss?”</p><p>“Angel, I don’t need to sneak kisses from you. You’re always perfectly willing to give them to me whether I ask you or not,” Crowley pointed out, fingers tangling through Aziraphale’s. “Now take a breath.”</p><p>“But I don’t need to--” his words trailed off into a gasp as he became aware of an abrupt, almost painful, change in pressure and temperature. </p><p>He should have been freezing; he <em> knew </em> he should have been freezing. His blood should have been boiling and, most likely, his lungs should have been trying to turn themselves inside-out. But, despite the cold, stark emptiness surrounding them, he felt warm and comfortable. He always did, when he was near Crowley. Instinctively, he pressed even closer, keeping his eyes shut and tightening his hold on his friend’s hands. </p><p>“I have you,” Crowley soothed, crowding close and sliding around him, hugging him from behind. They were in a vacuum, but his voice easily reached the angel’s ears, simply because he expected it to. “Relax, angel. Don’t fight. Just let it all wash over you for a minute. You’ll get used to it.” </p><p>Keeping his eyes shut, he leaned back against the former angel’s chest, forcing himself to breathe in and out. There was no air, but slowly expanding and contracting his lungs was routine, and therefore soothing. The warm pressure of Crowley’s bare chest against Aziraphale’s wings was comforting, too. They hadn’t been physical with each other for very long, but it was already familiar to touch and be touched by his friend. Just his warmth and smell were enough to calm the angel’s ruffled nerves.</p><p>Neither spoke or moved for some time, but it was not silent, not exactly. Space was <em> loud</em>, although he immediately realized that wasn’t the right word for it. If he hadn’t known better, he would almost have assumed the whooshing was the blood rushing in his ears. But it sounded nothing like a heartbeat, not steady and definitely not organic. Not even sound, really, not in the mortal, earthly sense. No air for the vibrations to be carried on, not even any actual vibrations in the physical sense. Sound and vibration were the easiest analogies for someone who had spent 6,000 years in an almost-human shell, but this was so much more, so much deeper, and fundamentally alien enough for him to understand why other angels had balked. Whatever it was, it thrummed and howled: so high it made his ears ring, and so low it rattled his bones. It was beautiful and terrible, made him want to laugh and to sob. Sometimes just one of those things, sometimes all of them at once. </p><p>“Do you hear? Can you hear it?” Crowley whispered after a few minutes, nuzzling his cheek. </p><p>Aziraphale opened his eyes and smiled up over his shoulder into Crowley’s beautiful, completely yellow eyes. “Of course I hear it. The <em> Musica Universalis</em>, I expect? I had no idea it was meant so literally. We’re listening to the Music Of the Spheres, aren’t we?”</p><p>“Yes. Yes, we are. I wasn’t sure if you’d hear it,” he admitted, smiling adoringly. “Even a lot of angels can’t.”</p><p>“Well, it’s… a bit overwhelming, but I don’t see how anyone could <em> miss </em> it.”</p><p>“Everything has a sound, angel, but most of us aren’t listening.”</p><p>If Crowley had uttered such a profound statement this time last year, Aziraphale would have been shocked. Not that he would have considered the sentiment uncharacteristic, but the lack of defensive flippancy was new. New, and so very wonderful. </p><p>“You have such a beautiful spirit,” he whispered, smiling up at Crowley.</p><p>“You think my spirit is the most beautiful thing here? You haven’t actually looked around yet, have you?” he snorted, smiling and shaking his head.</p><p>“What?” Aziraphale asked, tearing his eyes away from Crowley and gasping softly. </p><p>He’d almost managed, after the first few moments, to forget that they were floating in space. His focus had been completely on Crowley, and then on the beautiful sounds. But now he couldn’t ignore it. He was in space, and it was even more lovely than he’d imagined it could be. Crowley had taken them to the back end of beyond. Literally. The nearest stars looked to be tens of billions of miles away: large and shimmering, but not really bright from so far away. </p><p>But the massive pile of unshaped stardust seemed to absolutely <em> shine </em> in the emptiness…</p><p>He trembled, a sound escaping his lips that a less astute observer might have mistaken for a soft moan. Which was, of course, ridiculous. In six millennia, Aziraphale had moaned exactly <em> once</em>, and that had involved his first taste of creme brulee. It was almost a moan, though. The space-cloud was beautiful, in a way he hadn’t experienced, or even imagined to be possible, before. He’d never been so relatively close to something so gorgeous and, somehow, the proximity made it seem deeply personal yet somehow still incredibly grand.</p><p>It wasn’t just the sight of it, either, even if the unearthly glow was stunning. It was the way the solar winds played through the matter, making it quiver but not shift. It was the resonant thrumming the pressure and tension produced. It was the subtle warmth emitted by the dust particles rubbing together. It was the raw, pure <em> potential </em>of it!</p><p>The nebula-to-be was already beautiful, and it wouldn’t take much to make it breathtaking. He wasn’t an artist, not by any means, but he recognized that the dust-cloud was much more than a chaotic mass. Crowley had laid down the initial brushstrokes, started to block out a form that would have inspired small children to become astronomers when they grew up. It was unrealized, but Aziraphale could almost see the shape intended for it. </p><p>It wouldn’t have been perfect or flawless; those things would have made it unspeakably dull, lacking in passion or inspiration. Instead, it would have been proud and striking, and just imperfect enough to catch and keep the eye. A celestial Persian carpet, with just one or two imperfections included on principle, because the maker was not God and in no way aspired to be. </p><p>Seeing what it might have been made the angel want to weep, at the loss to the universe, and at the fact that the nebula’s creator had been rejected by Heaven, humiliated and then abandoned.</p><p>Tears pooling in his eyes, he whispered, “It’s a sin that you weren’t allowed to finish this, my dear.”</p><p>“A<em> sin</em>?” Crowley scoffed. “Angel, I think the Authorities might beg to differ with your definition of a sin.”</p><p>“But, it could have been so amazing!” he protested, shaking his head. “I… I can see what you were trying to do with it! It would have been--”</p><p>“It’s spilt milk, angel,” he interrupted, voice firm, but so gentle as well. “Forget what it once could have been. It can never be that now. But it can still be made into something special.”</p><p>“Oh,” he whispered, swallowing hard. “So you do want to… finish it?”</p><p>“No. I want <em> you </em>to finish it,” Crowley countered, giving him a look that was somehow equal parts Adoration and Temptation.</p><p><em> You are amazing and I love you, </em> the look said. <em> You can do this, and you </em> <b> <em>know</em> </b> <em> you wanna... </em></p><p>“Wh… I… couldn’t! I don’t know how!” Aziraphale protested, shaking his head. </p><p>But Crowley knew. Crowley <em> always </em> knew when someone wanted something far too much for their own good. </p><p>“You don’t need to know <em> how</em>,” the former angel laughed, shaking his head. “Learning how is the easy part. It becomes instinct after the first few seconds. Here, give me your hands,” he directed, reaching around Aziraphale and lightly grasping his wrists. “Just do what feels right, and let the stardust tell you how to shape it into what you both want it to become.” </p><p>“How do I--” he began.</p><p>“Reach out with your heart. Feel the dust in your hands,” Crowley directed, voice low and encouraging. “It wants to be there, angel. It <em> wants </em> you to shape it.”</p><p>“Oh! I <em> can </em> feel it! It’s amazing,” the angel whispered, turning his head and smiling shyly up at his friend. He’d expected it to be cold, and gritty, but it played across his fingers like silk warmed in sunshine. He hadn’t expected to actually be able to feel it physically, not with the millions of miles between them. But he could and, true to his friend’s words, the dust <em> wanted </em> to be in his hands right now. “It’s amazing, Crowley! Beautiful.”</p><p>“Your hands will tingle for days,” he warned, smiling down at Aziraphale. “And you might have trouble getting your fingers to work the way you want for a bit. But it’s worth it.”</p><p>“I can’t believe you used to do this all the time. It’s glorious.” </p><p>“It gets better. Look,” Crowley directed, gently guiding the angel’s left hand in a sweeping motion. </p><p>Aziraphale gasped as the mass of stardust obediently separated itself into two distinct clouds. “Is that all it takes? Just will it to happen and make a gesture?” he asked, leaning back against Crowley and trying to bring the clouds back together. </p><p>He made a few false starts, but finally managed it by pressing the palms of both hands lightly together. He could feel the dust between his palms, reacting in counterpoint to his every deliberate movement, and every unintentional twitch. It was like some kind of strange, wonderful dance. He might have been leading, but his partner had its own ideas about where the dance was going. It was a glorious joint effort, and the angel couldn’t stop grinning at the wonder and power of it all.</p><p>“See, you’re already getting it. It just takes a gentle touch and some intuition. Now close your eyes. Don’t look, just feel it inside,” he added, releasing his hold on Aziraphale’s hands. “Slow and steady. Let the Music guide your movements.”</p><p>He nodded and shut his eyes, stretching out his hands and losing himself in the sensation of warm stardust. It was a strange sensation, but glorious, too. He found himself moving without conscious effort, guided by the Music of the Spheres, and by something inside his own soul: pushing and pulling, pressing together and teasing apart. It really did come by instinct after a moment.</p><p>He was shaping the aether, just as Crowley had all those eons ago. He knew that the nebula he made would look nothing like the one Crowley had originally intended, but would still be exactly what it was meant to be. That, too, was part of the beauty of the experience.</p><p>“My love,” Aziraphale whispered, leaning back against his friend’s warm chest as he worked. “It’s beautiful. You’ve really done this dozens of times?” </p><p>“Well, I had other jobs, but these were always my favorite. I know planets and stars are important, but you can express so much more of yourself in a nebula.” There was silence between them for several minutes, then Crowley chuckled and directed, “Look, angel. See what you’ve created.”</p><p>He opened his eyes and immediately felt his cheeks coloring. “Did I do <em> that</em>?” he whispered, staring at the pair of yellow snake eyes and the vaguest suggestion of a slim-featured face, forming the center of a nebula surrounded by a rather wavy red corona. He’d been right; a lot of future astronomers were going to be <em> exceptionally </em>confused by this particular piece of celestial architecture.</p><p>Crowley laughed again, hugging him tightly from behind. “Are you trying to tell me something, angel?” </p><p>“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he protested, immediately adding, “But it’s no secret that I love you.”</p><p>“Yeah, but… you were thinking about me the <em> whole </em> time you worked!”</p><p>“Of course I was. I… it’s amazing to share this with you. I feel like I know you so much more fully now. I knew you had a beautiful heart, but I never realized that you had the soul of an artist, as well.” Turning in Crowley’s arms, Aziraphale leaned up to kiss him gently, whispering against his lips, “Thank you for sharing this with me, my love. Thank you for letting me experience it.”</p><p>“Best date we’ve had so far, angel?” Crowley teased, nuzzling his cheek, then dropping his head and pressing a kiss to the Aziraphale’s throat.</p><p>Squirming a little at the feel of those warm lips on such tender skin, he barely managed a breathless, “Wonderful, my dear. The best date I’ve ever had.”</p><p>“I’d be flattered, if you’d ever dated anyone other than me.”</p><p>“Well, instead you can be flattered that I never once <em> wanted </em> to date anyone but you,” Aziraphale suggested, smiling at him and feeling pleasantly hazy. “Oh, my dear Crowley, shall we go home now?”</p><p>“You must be exhausted. Shaping a nebula can take a lot out of a person, especially the first time. We’ll have a drink and tuck you into bed. I know you don’t do it often, but you’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”</p><p>“Will you join me? In bed, I mean?”</p><p>“You always ask that like you think I’m actually going to say ‘no’ one day.” Crowley shook his head, cradling Aziraphale against his chest and pressing his face into the angel’s hair. “You smell like stardust.” </p><p>“I’ll shower before I go to bed,” he promised. “Don’t want to get your sheets all dusty.” </p><p>“True. Going to let me join you?”</p><p>“I already asked you to,” he pointed out, frowning curiously. </p><p>Wearing that face he did when he was trying too hard to look casual, Crowley answered, “I meant in the shower, actually.” </p><p>“The shower?” the angel repeated, swallowing hard.</p><p>“If you want. You know I won’t try anything.”</p><p>“Obviously not. I’m always safe with you, Crowley. I have been since your first day on Earth.”</p><p>“Well, to be fair, I’ve loved you since my first day on Earth. I couldn’t have harmed you if I’d tried, not once you told me what happened to your sword. You weren’t like the others.”</p><p>“Neither of us were like the others, and I’ll always be grateful for that. I can’t imagine what might have happened if you’d been hostile towards me at first, or if you’d approached one of the other Gatekeepers instead of me.” </p><p>“The Almighty moves in ineffable ways,” Crowley teased, laughing softly.</p><p>“Completely and utterly ineffable, my dear,” he agreed. “But I feel as if every day of our existence has been leading us to where we are now.”  </p><p>“Where we are now? You mean floating in space giving future astronomers massive migraines while they try to figure out what happened to instantly change a nebula into something that looks oddly like a face?”</p><p>“You know what I mean, Crowley,” Aziraphale answered, trying to give him a stern look and failing miserably. He was too pleasantly exhausted to do anything but smile adoringly up at his friend.  “Take us home?”</p><p>“Your wish is my command.” </p><p>Reality shifted a bit, and he found himself in Crowley’s bedroom again, the former angel pressed close, holding Aziraphale upright until his fleeting sense of dizziness passed. It was so quiet in the flat, but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop hearing the <em>Musica </em>now.</p><p>“Thank you, dear,” he whispered, smiling shyly up at Crowley. “That was amazing. I didn’t know that an act of Creation could be so… profound.”</p><p>“Creation suits you,” he answered, smiling tenderly and brushing back Aziraphale’s hair. “You were amazing out there. Took to it like a natural.”</p><p>“I couldn’t have done it without you. Until you showed me, I didn’t even know I had it in me to make anything at all, let alone something truly special.”</p><p>“That’s always been your problem. You believe in everything and everyone <em> except </em> yourself.”</p><p>“Ah, but you believe in me enough for both of us, my dear Crowley.”  </p><p>“How the Heaven did I end up with a romantic idiot like you?”</p><p>“Well, it took you thousands of years of courtship,” Aziraphale teased. “That alone probably should have warned you what you were getting into.”</p><p>“<em>Courtship?</em>” he laughed, grinning. “What is this, the 1800s?”</p><p>“Well, what would you call it, then?”</p><p>“Mmm, the most drawn-out attempt at seduction in history?” </p><p>“Hardly,” the angel scoffed, beaming up at Crowley. “Quite aside from the fact that there still hasn’t been anything resembling seduction, if you’d actually been <em> trying </em> to seduce me, I think our relationship would have gone much differently.” </p><p>“Much. You would have run and not looked back. I always knew better than to try. Angel, you have no idea how much you’ve tested my resolve over the centuries.” </p><p>Blushing a little, he murmured, “Of course I knew. It crossed your mind at the most random times, even if you were always good enough not to dwell on it, or to mention your desires out loud.”</p><p>“I… you <em> knew</em>? Every time?” the former angel whispered, blushing, too. </p><p>The poor thing looked mortified, so Aziraphale did his best to comfort him. “No, not every time. I’ve always done my best not to eavesdrop, and you’ve always been good at building walls in your mind. But sometimes…  things shone through the cracks a bit.”</p><p>“Things? Love? Or…”</p><p>“Sometimes love, and sometimes much more… <em> human </em> impulses.”</p><p>“I tried not to think about that kind of thing too loudly, but it didn’t always work. Is that why you scampered off so fast after you gave me Holy Water?”</p><p>Aziraphale cleared his throat, nodding faintly. “It terrified me, how badly you wanted to hold me and… kiss me. Among other things.”</p><p>“It felt like your heart was about to break,” Crowley admitted, reaching for Aziraphale’s hands. “I didn’t know how to comfort you. I just wanted to reassure you that I still loved life, and that I would never willingly leave you.”</p><p>“I couldn’t see it that night. I was too upset to see or feel <em> anything </em> clearly. Maybe we both were.”</p><p>“Then I’m glad you left when you did, angel. I’d have hated myself, if anything happened and you thought it was just physical.” </p><p>Smiling weakly and squeezing Crowley’s fingers, he whispered, “<em>Would </em> something have happened, if I’d let you drive me home?”</p><p>“Probably,” he admitted, looking more than a little disturbed by the admission. “There wasn’t much I could have given you that night, except a few hours where you wouldn’t have been able to think about anything at all, especially about what I might do with a bottle of Holy Water.”</p><p>“I… I sometimes regretted not taking you up on your offer,” he admitted, resisting the urge to squirm. Because, God help them both, if Crowley had openly expressed even a fraction of the vulnerability he’d been feeling in that moment, Aziraphale couldn’t have hesitated to take him to bed. “Not for my own sake, but you needed comfort, too. I could feel your fear and pain, and I ran away instead of trying to help you. I was so distant over the next few weeks, too. You needed me and I wasn’t there.”</p><p>“You felt <em> guilty</em>? Always thinking of others, aren’t you, angel?”</p><p>“It’s how I was made, to think of others first. And you’ve meant so much to me, for so long, that I almost always think of you first. I’m sorry that I was afraid to tell you for so long.”</p><p>“Water under the bridge. Probably one of the bridges we burned,” he answered, smiling ruefully. “It wouldn’t have been the same. We were never free before. We’d have spent all our time sneaking around and wishing our universe was better, or more fair. But, now, our universe is one where we can be open about our feelings.”</p><p>“You’re right, of course. I think anything else would have been intolerably painful for both of us.”</p><p>“And now it doesn’t have to be,” Crowley agreed, suddenly looking thoughtful. “Although, we keep saying we can be open now, but we haven’t even kissed in public yet.”</p><p>“We kissed on our hike,” the angel pointed out, smiling at the memory. “Anyone could have walked by.” Blushing, he added, “I didn’t know it could be like that. I mean, I know it wasn’t our first kiss, but the others were so different. We were just friends before that. Friends who sometimes kissed.”</p><p>“Yeah, the hike definitely changed things. We were half-naked, wings out. I wasn’t even wearing my sunglasses.” Smiling fondly, he added, “I definitely wasn’t expecting <em> you </em> to initiate that kiss. You were so shy at first, but you’re addicted now, aren’t you?”</p><p>“I think I am. I… your lips are so warm and… tender. Gentle, and like… it’s as if…” He trailed off, blushing all the way to his toes. </p><p>“Go on,” Crowley prompted gently, drawing the angel into a firm, soothing embrace. “What was it like?” </p><p>“When we kiss… it’s like… like we… I mean,” he whispered, burying his face in Crowley’s chest. “Before that day, it was friendly and pleasant. But now it feels more like… mutual reverence and… understanding? I knew before that you cared for me, but you were so affectionate on that hillside. And you were kinder to me than I deserved, after all my mistakes and irrational fears.”  </p><p>“Waiting for you to come around wasn’t easy, but finally being allowed to hold you and kiss you, and to share a bed with you. Angel, at the risk of sounding completely pitiful, I would have waited another 6,000 years if I had to.”</p><p>“Well, I’m glad I came to my senses before that. I… when you said you wanted to kiss me in public, did you mean…”</p><p>“Where people might see, yes.” Crowley nodded, tightening his gentle hold on Aziraphale. “In the park. Feeding the ducks, or on a picnic. Or at the Ritz after I hold your chair for you.”</p><p>“None of those are places people <em> might </em> see us,” Aziraphale pointed out. “They’re places where we would <em> definitely </em>be seen by many people.”</p><p>“Well, we could start with hand-holding if you’re shy. Work our way up to putting our arms around each other. Eventually kissing. Maybe. It would be nice some day, but I’m not in a hurry.”</p><p>“Where would you kiss me?” he asked, biting his lip and smiling shyly up at Crowley.</p><p>“Your temple, maybe your forehead. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” </p><p>“You, uh… I wouldn’t object to a kiss on the lips. I might spend the rest of the evening blushing and sputtering, but I don’t think I’d actually <em> mind </em> one bit.”</p><p>“There’s my good angel,” Crowley answered, kissing him gently but quickly drawing back, eyes watering and face twisted into a grimace. “Eurg, I’d forgotten what stardust tastes like!”</p><p>“Oh, I’m terribly sorry! I’m covered, aren’t I?”</p><p>“You are. You look like you spent an hour rolling around in a pile of diamond powder. Come on, angel,” he chuckled, drawing Aziraphale into his bathroom. </p>
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